Theme: Humor

Palm Sunday

End of time splashes through yellow plastic tubes to meet eternity
that ends in a sand box. Shriek! Let us do it again. And we awoke
as bible words and slogans rained from an amused sky. I saw the
four horse men on mules, ride slowly through an abject cityscape
to where air was clear and grass for the animals. The weather is
always good when not punctuated by TV weather forecast entertainment.
We have fortressed our home to avoid receiving or hear other voices.
But strange men in black, came and showed me a house in lane,
where Barbara Streisand lived in a tent at the back, did her exercises
seven o’clock sharp, every day. Twenty eight people circled my house,
two of them came said they were termite inspectors, but they were more
interested in the kennel where my poodle Hamas lived. Next day
the twenty eight had disappeared and my dog lies dead on the steps
of the shed I use, when sending secret messages to people who believe
in everything just to be on the safe side. Barbara Streisand joined us,
dressed in a Salvation Army uniform, urged me to buy the house,
she promised me a new dog, I declined, jumped on a passing bus.
The driver wore a laundry starched, burnoose and past us
flew twinkling, vibrant bushes; green tutus looking for Margot Fonteyn.
It was Palm Sunday and not a good day to talk about defensive Jihad


More By  :  Jan Oscar Hansen

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